Troposphere
by Emma Grant
Summary: Set four years before the start of Rebels. Hera and Kanan struggle with their growing feelings for each other while chasing a criminal across the galaxy. Or, nine times they didn't and one time they did… (Ten chapters are planned. I update weekly. Enjoy!)
1. Chapter 1: Close

Kanan peeked around the corner, blaster at the ready. "It's clear. Go."

Hera dashed around him and headed for the doorway. "We've got ten minutes, tops, until he figures out that meeting was a ruse and comes back." She held up a stolen ID badge. The face of a middle-aged man in a dark grey jacket stared blankly from its surface. _Hladden Birk_,_ Information Technology Supervisor, BalCorp Industries. _"Here we go."

She held the badge to the door. It slid open with a surprisingly loud _swoosh_, and they both stepped inside. Kanan waved his hand over the control panel just inside the doorway and it slid closed again.

"And now, the fun begins." Hera flashed him a quick grin as she sat down in front of Birk's main computer terminal display.

Kanan stayed near the door, listening. Breaking into these sorts of industrial facilities was often necessary for the sort of information-gathering work they did. It was surprisingly easy to get in. Getting out, however, could be a bit more challenging — and making sure that happened smoothly was his job.

He looked back to see Hera frowning at the screen. "This isn't making any sense."

Kanan leaned over her shoulder to squint at the display. "It should be in here somewhere." He trailed one fingertip across the display screen, then shook his head. "These records are a mess. How do these companies manage to get anything done?"

"It's a different Empire without Count Vidian around to make things more efficient."

Kanan shuddered at the memory. "Makes things easier for us."

"Either that or they're trying to cover up their tracks more than I realized." She paused and scrolled backward a bit, then forward again. "Maltho. Ring any bells?"

Kanan thought for a moment. "Maltho. Is it a code name for something?

"I'm not sure. It's come up three times in connection with large amounts of credits, though. Maybe it's a project that they're trying to fund."

"The first thing that comes to mind is malthochymine."

"They're developing chemical weapons?" She turned to look up at him.

"I wouldn't put it past them."

"Of course, it could also be a…" There was a flicker just at the edge of his senses, like a black dot appearing in one's peripheral vision. He blinked.

"Someone's coming?" There was a touch of awe in her voice, as there always was when he let down his guard against the Force. (She thought he should use that connection more often. He disagreed.)

He nodded and turned, blaster already in his hand. He could hear faint bootfalls now, approaching at a pace that indicated action. Their intrusion had been detected. "I think Birk is coming back, and he's bringing some friends."

"I just need to download the financial records." She tapped furiously at the terminal's data entry screen.

"Hera, we have to go. _Now_."

"Thirty seconds." Her headtails twitched in a way he'd come to recognize as annoyance.

The sound of troops' footsteps grew closer. Raised voices could be heard now, reverberating off the walls. Kanan swore softly. They had ten seconds, tops. Hera was good, but even she couldn't make electrons move faster. He bounced on the balls of his feet. His fingertips began to tingle.

"_Hera_—"

"Got it. Go!"

Kanan leapt toward the door and waved his hand over the panel. It opened and he stepped through, blaster at the ready. To his surprise, the corridor was still empty. The sounds of the approaching feet were close, though, just around a bend some twenty meters away. He gestured the opposite direction and Hera dashed down the corridor, her blaster already in hand.

They rounded a corner and jumped into an open turbolift. Hera pressed the stolen ID badge against the controls. Nothing happened for a moment. She held the badge against the control panel again, and a red light began blinking.

"Druk! We've been locked out of the system." She turned and scanned the corridor. "We'll have to find another way up. Can we climb through-"

The turbolift doors began to slide closed. Kanan leapt forward and pushed hard against them, bracing them open long enough for Hera to squeeze through.

"Where to?" she asked, but he'd already chosen a direction and started sprinting. The sound of Hera's boots against durasteel flooring right behind him was reassuring. He could sense her too, could feel the slight ripple in the Force that only existed when she was near. He wasn't conscious of it most of the time, but in moments like this one, her presence was seared into his mind as clearly as if she were emanating energy.

And her presence wasn't the only one triggering his senses. There were others ahead, possibly security personnel coming from the opposite direction.

"Not that way." He stopped and turned in place, looking for an alternate escape route. These new Imperial-funded industrial complexes had more security than those built in the Republic days. The ceiling was solid, with no obvious ductwork they could disappear into. The walls in this section were bare except for what appeared to be an electronics storage closet. It was hardly the best option, but it was the quickest. "Storage room, go!"

Hera pushed the button to open the small door and dashed inside. Kanan glanced down the corridor once more before following. The door slid shut behind him, plunging them into total darkness. He tried to turn to face the door and his elbow made contact with something soft and warm and… round.

He heard Hera hiss in pain.

"Sorry! I've barely got room to stand."

"I think you picked a one-person hiding spot."

That he had, and one from which there was no escape route if they were discovered. The footsteps grew closer outside. Kanan reached behind him and triggered what he hoped was the door's locking mechanism. It produced a satisfying click.

"That'll hold 'em off," Hera quipped.

"They'll shoot me first, you know."

"Comforting thought." Her tone was light and teasing, but he could hear the tension beneath it.

In the darkness, Kanan's other senses shifted into hyper-awareness. The sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears, along with Hera's slightly shallow breathing. He felt small bursts of damp warmth against his throat as she exhaled, but that paled in comparison to the heat rolling off her body. They were separated by mere centimeters from head to toe, physically closer than they'd ever been.

Kanan looked up to where the ceiling would be if it were visible, and exhaled. He'd never been more tempted to reach out to the Force for strength than he was right now.

"Listen," Hera whispered, and leaned against him, apparently trying to position her ear closer to the door. One hand pressed against his chest, her long fingers splayed over the fabric of his jacket. Her fingers moved just slightly, and Kanan bit his lip to keep himself from making a sound in response.

It was a Force-damned life-or-death situation, and half of his brain was going offline from hormonal overload. He inhaled smoothly, deeply, and forced his mind to focus. The boots of the security force were moving away now, though there were voices nearby, just a few meters down the corridor. He could only make out a few words through the thick door: "intruders" and "false alarm" and "drill."

"Are they leaving?" Hera's fingers clenched the fabric of his jacket.

"I don't think they know we're here. We just have to wait." He patted her on what he hoped was her arm, and she relaxed slightly. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and sighed. He slid his hand around to her back and held it there, palm pressed against the rough surface of the leathery armor she wore. She wouldn't even feel the touch, but he could imagine he was holding her, comforting her.

And with hostiles just outside the door, prepared to blast them on sight. Very romantic.

They remained there, neither of them moving for several long minutes. He could hear Hera's heart beating now, faster than usual. Her fingers traced small circles against his chest, almost a caress. He felt her breathing, warm and rhythmic against his cheek, closer now than she'd been before. Sweat trickled down Kanan's back. It itched, but the moment he moved, the spell would be broken. She'd move away, as she always did, with longing in her eyes, but resolute in her determination to keep him at arm's length.

_You know I'm fond of you, love, but this is my life right now. There isn't time for anything else._

He closed his eyes and willed the itch away. The bit of dust that had settled in his nose, however, was another matter entirely. He felt the tickle of a sneeze begin to grow, and then there was nothing else for it. He reached up to squeeze his nose shut, his fingers trailing across usually warm skin as he did. There was a small intake of breath from below. He winced.

"Sorry, sorry."

"It's fine."

It wasn't fine, he knew. Headtails were off-limits, and the way he'd just stroked his fingers up the length of one of hers was a very intimate touch indeed. His cheeks flamed in the darkness. Could he frak this up any more spectacularly than he had already?

"They're leaving," she whispered, and stepped away from him.

The air between them was still hot and damp, and he ached at the loss of contact. He ached in one place in particular, actually. He'd have to make sure she didn't notice that when they finally got out of here.

He pressed one ear against the door and listened. The footsteps were very faint now. Perhaps it would be all right if he just reached out a bit, just enough to sense how far away they'd gone. He closed his eyes and let go of his careful control, just for a moment. He sensed nothing in the corridor — nothing close enough to be an immediate threat, at any rate. Hera's presence was a warm beacon in the Force, distracting him from nearly everything else. He let himself wallow in it for a long second, eyes tightly closed. It felt good, but when he pushed it all back down again, there would be nothing but emptiness left. It was an ache he'd grown used to. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes.

"Let's go." Blaster at the ready, he opened the door. He winced at the brightness of the corridor, but all was quiet.

"This way," Hera said, stepping past him. He allowed himself a single moment to watch her retreating figure, then followed.


	2. Chapter 2: Paired

**Chapter 2: Paired**

Lipstick. Hera hated the stuff, but tonight it was necessary. Certain aspects of conventional beauty were expected at events like this one, after all. She stepped back to admire the effect of her face-painting in the mirror: she wasn't unrecognizable, but neither did she look like herself. And that was the point, wasn't it?

She adjusted the drape of the jeweled fabric covering her lekku and smiled flirtatiously at her reflection. Yes, that would do nicely. She turned sideways and her dark green gown swirled elegantly with her movements. It had been years since she'd worn something so lovely. It fit her perfectly, to the credit of that tailor on Bakka Prime. The fabric draped delicately over her breasts, left her back bare, and clung to her slender waist. Though most of her skin was covered, it was easily the most revealing garment she'd ever worn. And that could work to their advantage, of course.

This should be reasonably fun, if all went as planned. They'd discussed their cover story thoroughly. They'd planned for multiple contingencies. Their faked event invitations and ID codes were vacuum-tight, even with the presence of Imperial security forces.

She turned to look at her reflection over her shoulder. The view from the back was rather lovely as well. The shoes might be a problem by the end of the evening, though. Boots were much more her style than these little slips of jeweled synthplas. Once more she lamented the fact that there was nowhere to hide a weapon. It was rare that they embarked on an operation without blasters, but they doubted they could get them past security anyway.

She turned back to face the mirror once more. It was almost time, and she'd somehow managed to be ready before Kanan. She crossed the corridor to stand in the doorway of Kanan's small room on the _Ghost_. He was leaning close to the mirror to frown at his reflection, and she had to bite her lip to keep herself from grinning. He looked — well, not like himself at all.

The jacket he wore was ornately decorated with ribbons and medals, and it was a rather outlandish shade of crimson. Flamboyant as it was, the cut of the jacket was flattering, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and tapering down to a gold-braided edge at his waist. Her gaze drifted downward to the line of the black trousers over his backside, quite a lot tighter than the ones he usually wore. She tilted her head appreciatively.

Kanan tugged at the frilly collar of his shirt and grimaced. "I have a bad feeling about this."

She'd never been able to sneak up on him. She assumed it was a Jedi thing, though she'd never asked. "It's going to be fine, love."

"I don't thi—" He turned to face her and stopped mid-word, mouth hanging open. His eyes went almost comically wide.

She waited a full second before canting out one hip and smirking at him. "Something wrong?"

He blinked, swallowed visibly, and seemed to be trying very hard to keep his focus on her face. "No, I… you look… wow."

She grinned at him. "Thanks. So do you." She crossed to admire the jacket, unable to stop herself from trailing her fingers across the collection of medals on the chest. "I wonder whose grandfather these belonged to."

"I suppose I can say my own, if someone notices some of them are from before I was born."

She stepped back and tapped a finger on her chin. "I have to say, this is a good look for you. But _this_ has to go." She moved behind him to tug the leather tie from his hair. It fell to his shoulders, and he stood patiently while she combed it smooth with her fingers. She let herself linger there for a moment, the strands sliding over her skin. It was such a strange, soft texture.

"Having fun?" She could hear the teasing smile in his tone.

"Hair is so weird. I've always found it fascinating. Do you really have it all over?"

"You're welcome to find out for yourself," he quipped in response.

An image sprang unbidden into her mind: Kanan stripped naked, on his knees, staring up at her with that expression he only had when he thought she wasn't looking. She allowed herself a private grin before pushing the thought away again. "I walked right into that one, didn't I? Here, turn around."

He turned to face her, immediately plastering on the most ridiculously charming smile she'd ever seen on his face. And that was saying quite a lot. "Do I look the part?"

"Absolutely. Do I?"

His expression softened. "You look like a princess." At her raised eyebrow, he flushed slightly and looked away. "Or a baroness, I suppose. Ready?"

She nodded. "Let's go."

The hovercab dropped them off at the entrance of what appeared to be an ancient palace in the city's center. Sharply dressed beings milled about the exterior, some clearly holo-journalists waiting to catch a glimpse of someone important. A long purple carpet had been laid out from the street across the lush grounds to the entry doors, in front of which stood a pair of stormtroopers in dress armor.

Hera slipped her arm through Kanan's and smiled broadly. "Here we go."

They walked along the purple carpet, beaming at everyone around them. Happily, the holo-journalists didn't pay them any attention.

One of the troopers at the door held out an armored hand. "Identification."

Kanan smiled and reached into his jacket. "Would you like to see the invitation as well?"

"Just your identification." The voice was female, and even modulated, sounded annoyed.

Kanan shrugged. "We should have left it at home, then. She loves to put these sorts of things in a scrapbook, you know."

Hera batted her eyelids at him. "I do! Be careful not to crumple it, darling."

"I'll do my best, dearest. Though that may put a bit of a crimp in my dancing this evening." He winked at the trooper's blank mask. Predictably, there was no response. "Our identification," Kanan said, holding out a small data chip.

The trooper inserted it into her datapad and tapped at the screen. Hera held her breath for while the trooper studied the display. If this didn't work, they could at least still make a quick escape. She looked up at Kanan, who winked at her — the signal that he was ready for the escape plan, if needed.

"You're on the list. Proceed." The trooper handed the data chip back and stepped aside as the door swung open.

Kanan and Hera beamed at each other and strolled through into the building's large foyer. It was difficult not to gape at the exquisitely decorated interior— Hera hadn't seen anything quite so excessive in her entire life. The purple carpet continued through the foyer towards the open doors of a large ballroom on the opposite side. Opulently dressed people milled about, many holding drinks in delicate crystal goblets.

"Shall we?" Kanan nodded toward the ballroom.

They passed through the weapons-detection portal and then were stopped in the doorway by a pale human man in Imperial dress uniform. "Welcome to the Empire Day Grand Gala. Identification?"

Kanan held out the chip. "Lots of security tonight, isn't there?"

"One can never be too careful, sir." The man inserted the chip into his data pad and nodded. He held up a small commlink and said, "The Baron and Baroness Khlikia of Lo'Uran." Hera flinched at the sound of his amplified voice — they hadn't planned to make such a dramatic entrance — but as they stepped forward into the entryway spotlight, no one in the cavernous room bothered to pause their conversation. In fact, the officer's voice barely made a dent in the din of hundreds of voices.

Kanan took her hand and squeezed it, then led her through the crowd towards the room's central bar.

"I told you the ID would check out," she whispered into his ear.

He put an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, smiling blandly at the people who were looking their way. "You were right."

She leaned in to brush her lips against his cheek. "I do love hearing you say that."

"Would you care for a drink, dearest?" he asked, more loudly. His eyes sparkled with something she hadn't seen in them before, and it made her feel slightly giddy.

She traced her fingertip around the largest medal on his chest and looked up at him through painted eyelashes. "Something bubbly, my love. And expensive, please. You know how cheap wine always gives me a headache."

Following the minutest of eyerolls, he let go her hand and wound his way to the bar. She took the opportunity to scan the nearby revelers. The attendees were an interesting combination of Imperial officers, politicians, royalty from dozens of systems, and even a few celebrities. In fact, the man smiling lasciviously at her right now was a face she recognized from holovids she'd loved in years past.

He seemed to interpret her eye contact as an invitation and crossed to stand beside her. "This is quite an event, isn't it?" His gaze roamed down her body and back up again before settling on her eyes.

"It's terribly exciting, yes."

"Can I offer you a drink?" He stepped even closer, far closer than was proper.

She gestured toward the bar. "My husband has just gone to get me one, actually."

"What a careless man he is to leave such a lovely creature as you all alone." These words were spoken directly to her breasts.

She cleared her throat and he looked up again, completely unembarrassed about being caught. She smiled sweetly at him, calculating. Obnoxious as he was, his prurient interest in her might prove to be of use this evening. It certainly wouldn't hurt to cultivate the possibility. But first, perhaps a bit of fun.

She tilted her head and frowned slightly. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

His eyes smoldered just as they had in that vid series where he'd played the dashing hero. "I'm sure I would remember meeting someone as delicious as you. I'm Kel Yolo." His lips twisted into a smug smile. Or, would have done if not for the excessive surgery he'd clearly had in an attempt to reclaim his once youthful appearance.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr Yolo."

"Please, call me Kel."

"Kel," she repeated carefully, as if making a mental note of it. "Are you a senator?"

His expression fell for a moment before he caught himself and plastered on a charming smile once again. "Ah, no. I stay far away from politics, my dear. I am an actor." There was a dramatic emphasis on the last syllable. "Perhaps you've seen my work? I was the star of the _Adventures on Kelis Prime _trilogy and _Rogue Jedi: Sith Legends. _But of course, you are probably most familiar with my award-winning performance in _The Dacken Supernova._"

Hera gasped in mock surprise. "Oh, yes! My mother loved those vids! She was always such a big fan of yours, ever since she was very young."

Kel struggled to maintain his smile. "How wonderful."

"In fact," she continued, practically beaming at him now, "I think I had a toy of your Rogue Jedi character when I was a little girl."

"Really?" Kel's expression was perfectly blank.

"Here you are, darling," Kanan said as he joined them with drinks in hand. His gaze fixed on Kel and, though his expression appeared friendly, Hera could see the tension underneath it. "It was the most expensive wine they had."

She took the proffered glass and winked at Kel. "My dear husband always knows just what I like."

"I imagine he does." Kel's gaze had shifted to Kanan now, and Hera couldn't help noticing it burned with the same degree of interest he'd shown in her. He held out his hand. "Kel Yolo." He paused and smiled, smarmily. "Yes, _the_ Kel Yolo."

Kanan shook Kel's hand and, to his credit, didn't even flinch. "What a pleasure."

"It certainly could be," Kel replied, his tone fairly dripping with innuendo. "What a lovely pair you make. Are you visiting the planet for long?"

Hera took Kana's arm and leaned into him slightly. "We're leaving in the morning, I'm afraid. We've so many duties back home to attend to. It was difficult for my husband to make room in his schedule even for this."

"If you've no plans for later this evening, perhaps you would consider joining me for a drink in my suite?" Kel looked at each of them in turn. "I assure you, I could show you a _very_ good time."

Kanan was, for once, completely speechless.

Hera took a measured sip from her glass and giggled. "How kind of you, Kel. Isn't he ever so charming?"

"You could say that," Kanan replied.

There was a buzzing sound, and Kel frowned and reached into his pocket. "I must apologize. I'm being summoned by my assistant." He held up a commlink. "I'm starting a new project next week, and there are so many last-minute details to settle. If you'll excuse me for a moment." He gave them both a sly smile and walked away.

"That was unexpected," Kanan said once he was out of earshot. "Never thought I'd ever meet one of the Rogue Jedi."

"Or that he'd invite you to his bed?" Hera nudged him with an elbow.

Kanan snorted. "I think he invited both of us." He tucked his arm around her waist and pulled her close enough to whisper in a way that would appear romantic to anyone watching. "Have you seen anything yet?"

"Nothing," she replied, reaching up to comb his hair away from his face with her fingers. "Perhaps we should walk around?"

He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "Should we split up?"

"Not yet." She closed her eyes against the sensation of warm breath against the sensitive skin of her lekku. "It will look more natural for us to be watching the crowd if we're together, I think."

He took her hand again and they wound their way through the crowded bar area towards the far side of the ballroom. She recalled the details of the face of their target from the information they'd gathered over the last few weeks: human, tall, pale-skinned, sparse orange hair, middle-aged, and with a long thin nose. She'd yet to see anyone that matched the image in the files they'd acquired.

They strolled hand-in-hand, smiling at everyone they passed, and kept their observations quick and casual. She found herself on the receiving end of appreciative looks at every turn. Perhaps wearing this gown had been a mistake — she hadn't intended to attract this much attention.

Kanan stopped then, so suddenly that his hand pulled away from hers. Hera turned to look at him. His gaze had gone unfocused in a way she'd only seen a few times before. He blinked, and then turned ninety degrees to the left, staring out into the crowd.

Hera followed his gaze. There were two men standing not far away, absorbed in conversation. Hera gasped: one of them was Artis Tinian, the most successful and influential weapons designer in the Empire — and just the man they were looking for. "There he is," she whispered, nudging Kanan with her elbow.

Kanan blinked. "Who?"

"Tinian," she whispered, frowning. If he hadn't spotted Tinian, then what had caught his attention? She turned to look again.

The man Tinian was talking with was dressed similarly to Kanan, in the sort of military garb generally preferred by aristocrats. His rust-colored hair was shoulder-length and wavy, and his beard was trimmed in an intricate swirled pattern. Standing behind him was a girl. She was human, ten or eleven years old, and dressed in a floor-length gossamer blue gown. Her dark hair was intricately arranged into a design that must have taken hours to complete — wealthy, here with parents, but clearly comfortable at this sort of function. Perhaps one of these men was her father?

Hera looked at Kanan again. "The girl?"

"Yes. She's about to… do something."

The girl glanced around casually and then, very carefully and with practiced ease, slipped a small device into the pocket of Tinian's conversation partner. She cast one more glance up at him to make sure he hadn't seen and smiled, and then looked up. The moment she made eye contact with Kanan was startlingly clear. She stared back at him with an expression of confusion for several seconds, then seemed to force herself to look away. She turned into the crowd and disappeared.

Kanan started after her immediately.

Hera caught his hand. "What are you doing? That's him. This is our chance!"

Kanan shook his head. "Stay here and keep an eye on him. I've got to find out what just happened."

"Why?" Hera asked, but he was already too far away to hear. She swore under her breath as he vanished into the crowd. She waited, sipping her drink slowly and watching the two men talk. They seemed to know each other, and to be engaged in a very intense conversation. She edged her way toward them as casually as she could manage, trying to catch a bit of what they were saying. The room was still quite loud, though, and they were talking quietly. She wouldn't be able to get much closer without appearing suspicious.

She had drained her glass by the time the men shook hands and parted ways. She hesitated a moment before carefully trailing Tinian as he moved through the ballroom. He stopped to talk to a few more people, though the conversation was clearly light and social, nothing like the earlier one she'd observed. He moved on again. She tried to follow, but was stopped by a woman who admired her dress and felt compelled to tell her so, at length. By the time Hera was able to disentangle herself, she'd lost Tinian.

_Damn_. She crossed to the far wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The crowd had only grown larger in the time they'd been there. She frowned, frustrated.

"A pretty face like yours should be smiling!" a passing man said, giving her a lascivious wink. She reached for her blaster out of habit, and then remembered she was supposed to be the Baroness of Lo'Uran. She plastered on a smile.

"There you are, dearest," she heard, and turned to see Kanan walking towards her.

"Where have you been, _darling? _I was all alone for minutes. It was horrid." All of this was said through clenched teeth.

Kanan's eyes widened fractionally. "I'm terribly sorry, love. It couldn't be helped."

Enough of this ridiculous facade. She shot him a mild glare. "I lost him."

"We'll find him again." Kanan stepped closer, but didn't put his arm around her this time.

She gripped his hand tightly enough that he grimaced. "Where the hell were you?"

"I wanted to find out what that girl was doing."

"Why?"

"I… can't explain." His expression was guarded now.

Hera sighed in exasperation. "So what did you find out?"

"Nothing yet."

"If you're that curious, you need only ask," they heard.

They both turned to see the girl standing right behind them.

"All right," Kanan said, staring at her intently. "I'm asking. What did you slip in that man's pocket?"

The girl crossed her arms over her chest. "First, tell me why you're interested in Tinian."

Hera smiled as warmly as she could manage. "We're interested in bringing him to our planet to supervise the development of our defense systems. The Outer Rim is quite a dangerous place, you know."

The girl's eyes narrowed at Hera. "Which planet?"

"My dear, we are the Baron and Baroness of Lo'Uran."

The girl's eyebrows rose slightly, making her look far older than she was. "Lo'Uran doesn't have an aristocracy. It's been a representative democracy more more than a century. Luckily for you, few people around here know their galactic history."

Hera steeled her smile. "Isn't it getting close to your bedtime, darling child?"

The girl rolled her eyes and turned to Kanan. "So obviously you're not who you say you are, which means you falsified your identification in order to attend this event. Why would you go to all of that trouble just to attend a party? The only reasonable conclusion is that you're here doing recon of some sort."

Hera's jaw clenched: if a ten-year-old child could work out their plan through simple observation alone, they should probably leave while they could.

To her surprise, Kanan chuckled. "Very good. Now tell us something we don't know."

The girl's lips quirked up slightly at the praise. "Tinian isn't the one you should be interested in. You should focus on Maltho."

Hera and Kanan exchanged a glance. Maltho: the name that had come up in the files they'd downloaded from their recent raid on a weapons facility. They'd assumed it was a code for a top secret project. It hadn't occurred to Hera that it might be the name of a person.

If Kanan had possessed headtails, they would have been quivering now. "Who is Maltho?"

"He's the money. He's here to recruit Tinian, and based on what I've heard so far—" She patted the tiny purse that was slung over her shoulder. "—I'm guessing he made quite a lucrative offer."

"You bugged him." Kanan shook his head admiringly. "So what are you after, then?"

The girl smirked. "I'm doing a school project, of course."

"Right." Kanan pursed his lips. "Any chance we can get a copy of that project when it's done?"

"Interested in intergalactic geopolitical affairs, are you?"

"Absolutely." Kanan smiled roguishly, and the girl, astonishingly, grinned at him. Hera suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'll consider it," the girl continued. "Do you have a secure holonet ID or a skimmer address? Scramble only. I don't do anon."

Hera gaped at her. This girl was far more knowledgeable than she first appeared.

"We do," Kanan replied. "Do you have a pen?"

"I'll remember it," she said, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly.

Ordinarily, Hera would have assumed they were being brushed off, but something about this girl made her think they would be hearing from her again. Kanan quietly told her the skimmer address, and she nodded.

"What else can you tell us about Maltho?" Hera asked.

The girl pursed her lips and looked past their shoulders before lowering her voice to a near-whisper. "He has a hand in nearly all of the big weapons projects in the Empire. He has a seemingly endless supply of credits to finance it all, too. I don't know where he's getting it all, but there must be laundering going on. That's what we're—" She paled slightly and cleared her throat. "That's the thesis of my project, anyway. Think I'll get good marks?"

"Kid, I think you're heading to the top of the class." Kanan grinned, and Hera had the distinct impression he's only barely restrained himself from ruffling her perfect hair.

The girl looked past their shoulders again. "I've got to go. Mother's looking for me. I'll be in touch."

Hera held out her hand. "Thank you."

The girl shook it firmly and smiled. She looked up at Kanan and held out her hand to shake his as well, but instead he took it and lifted it to his lips. The girl's cheeks flushed pink. She stared at him a moment longer and then dashed away. Kanan stared after her as she crossed to a woman in an ornate ball gown standing not far away. The woman looked back at them once before turning her daughter towards the doorway.

Hera sighed and slid an arm around his waist. "Trying to make me jealous with a younger woman, are you, dearest?"

Kanan blinked and turned to look at her, confused. "No, I just… That was… interesting." He trailed his fingers up her bare skin of Hera's back almost absently.

She shivered at the touch. "Interesting how?"

"I'll tell you later." He stared back at her for a long moment. There was longing in his eyes — real longing, not the act they'd been playing all evening. She let herself drown in his eyes for a moment, let herself be drawn closer.

This was a terrible idea, and she'd promised herself she wouldn't go down this path with him. It would complicate matters unnecessarily. The work they were doing was important, the sworn focus of her life. If she knew they could just be casual lovers, it would be different. Kanan loved her, though, and if they crossed that line, there would be no turning back.

He closed his eyes and she realized how near he was. She should step away, turn her head. She should definitely not press her mouth against his and—

"Oh, sorry to interrupt."

They stepped apart and turned to see Kel Yolo leering at them.

"Still interested in that drink tonight?" He leaned in close, and it was clear he'd already had quite a few.

Hera took a step backward and gasped. "Is that _Beyond the Stars_ they're playing? Oh darling, it's our song!"

"So it is," Kanan said, slipping smoothly into character again. "Forgive us, Kel, but I promised my beautiful wife back on our wedding day that I would always dance with her whenever we heard this one."

"Of course," Kel said, gesturing broadly towards the dance floor. "I'll get us a round of drinks, shall I?"

Kanan held out his hand. His eyes sparkled with humor and a touch of regret, and his cheeks were flushed. "Ready, my love?"

Hera felt something twist deep inside her, and pleasantly so. She smiled and took his hand. "Always."

To her surprise, he actually led her to the dance floor. She gave him a panicked look when he turned to face her, arms outstretched.

"I don't know how to do this dance."

"I do. Just follow." He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

Two extremely awkward minutes later, they made a quiet exit from the building. The hovercab driver they'd hired earlier was waiting around the corner, as expected. They spent most of the ride back to the spaceport in silence.

"I'll be glad to get out of this dress," Hera said at last. She glanced at Kanan, and he quickly looked away. "It's not really my style."

"I suppose not," he replied, staring out the window. He seemed lost in thought — or was he avoiding looking at her after the aborted kiss?

Hera sighed and watched his profile for a long moment. He was so dear to her, so important in her life and work. She cared about him as much as she'd ever cared about anyone. She was undeniably, painfully attracted to him. But was she in love with him? She pressed her lips together. He was her best friend, her partner, her confidante, her compatriot. He was everything to her, and the thought of possibly ruining what they had by taking it a step further was terrifying.

She exhaled, calming her suddenly racing heart. "Do you really think the girl will contact us?"

Kanan smiled and stroked his beard with the tips of his fingers. "I do."

"If she doesn't, I think we can find her. Did you get a good look at her mother?"

Kanan turned to her, his face blank. He shook his head.

"I can't be certain, but her mother looked very much like the Queen of Alderaan."

Kanan pursed his lips. "Easy to find, but almost impossible to contact, then."

"Yeah, I'm thinking her parents might find it a bit odd that a man your age is so keen on talking to their _very young _daughter."

"Which is why you would do all the talking, _dearest_."

"I always do the talking, _darling_."

Kanan grinned. "In the meantime, we've got some work to do."

"Maltho," Hera said, and turned to look out the window. The lights of the city streaked past in a swirl of yellow and white and blue.

_Maltho_.


	3. Chapter 3: Cold

**Chapter 3: Cold**

"_Hang on back there_!"

Hera's voice crackled over the commlink dangling from Kanan's belt — even more evidence of damage they'd taken from that last hit.

He hadn't even made it to the gun turret before the ship turned in a deep arc, pressing him down hard into the floor. A moment later, the ship pulled out of it so quickly that the grav generators barely had time to compensate. Kanan's feet left the floor for a full second.

"_Jumping to hyperspace on three._"

Kanan swore softly and dropped to his hands and knees. Two seconds later, the floor moved out from under him. He flattened himself and managed to twist so that he hit the wall feet-first. He waited out the sickening pull in his stomach and then pushed to his feet again. No need for the guns now.

An alarm pierced the air: smoke was rising from the compartment just to his right.

"_The computer is reporting a fire in the main electronics compartment._"

"I'm on it," he shouted, not even bothering to use the commlink.

He pulled a cannister of fire retardant from the wall station and yanked open the door of the main electronics compartment. Smoke drifted upward from one panel, but fortunately, nothing appeared to actually be on fire. He crawled inside for a better look.

"_Damage report_?" Hera's voice was accompanied by quite a bit of static.

"Internal comm took some damage, from the sound of it." He pried off the scorched panel and coughed as a cloud of acrid smoke flowed out. He waved it away and peered closer. A gundark's nest of twisted wiring had melted together, and right behind it — frak it all. He shifted his weight to a more comfortable position and raised the commlink to his mouth. "Part of the atmospheric controls are burnt out."

"_Great_." He could hear the annoyance in her tone. "_Any chance of fixing it_?"

"Not without a replacement heat unit." He poked at the twisted mass of metal he'd have to pry out of a tangle of wiring_. _

"_Can we cannibalize something from the Phantom?_"

"I'd prefer to keep it intact, in case we need it." Even better would be if they could just route the atmospheric controls through the small shuttle's electronics, but that sort of operation required a hell of a lot more expertise than either of them had. They really ought to pick up an astromech at some point. "We're going to have to make a supply stop. And until we do, it's going to get frosty in here."

"_At least the hyperdrive still works._"

That it did, and only because Hera's piloting skills enabled them to avoid the most direct hits. Those smugglers had turned downright unfriendly when he'd brought up the subject of their connection to the mysterious Maltho. And they'd had far more sophisticated weaponry than he and Hera had expected.

He wrestled the mangled heat unit out of the compartment, somehow managing not to do any further damage in the process. By the time he cleaned up and made his way to the cockpit, the temperature had dropped noticeably.

"It's going to be an hour and a half before we reach the closest system." Hera turned to face him as he sat in the copilot's chair. "Ever been in an unheated ship in hyperspace that long?"

"No." He decided not to tell her that he'd heard stories of what happened to others who had. "We'd better bundle up."

Their cold-planet gear was stowed in the supply room, purchased that time they'd checked out an abandoned Clone Wars-era base on Bryndar. Hera went to dig hers out while Kanan sat in the cockpit, making a last futile attempt to convince the computer to re-route heat from the ship's hyperdrive exhaust past the ventilation ducts. Several minutes later, she reappeared wearing a thick white snowsuit, gloves, and boots.

"Much better," she said as she tucked her lekku into the specially-designed hood. "Aren't you cold yet? I can see my breath in here."

"Getting there," Kanan replied. He leaned back in the pilot seat and grinned at her.

"What?" She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but the bulky snowsuit got in the way. She put her hands on her hips instead.

"You look like a stuffed jakrab."

She raised one hand in what seemed to be an attempt at an obscene gesture, but only managed a strange little wave with the thick gloves encasing her fingers.

He feigned confusion. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

She scowled, and looked even more like a fluffy bunny as she did. "We've got an hour until we reach the nearest system. At the rate the temperature is dropping…" She paused, apparently calculating in her head. "It's going to get dangerously cold in here very soon." She looked up at him, her expression more worried than he'd seen in quite a while.

"Guess I'd better suit up, then." He found his own snow gear in the back of the storage locker, neatly folded as he'd left it several months before. He shook it out and decided to remove the armor plates he wore on his shoulders before pulling the stiff coveralls on. He'd forgotten how uncomfortable it was, but it was best to put it on now and start building up heat inside the suit. He put his utility belt on over the outside of the suit, letting it out several notches. The boots were a whole size too big for him, which was annoying. The shop hadn't had his size, and he'd opted for too large instead of too small. If he could manage not to trip over his own feet this time, he'd be fine.

Hera was shivering in her seat when he returned to the cockpit, which now felt like a walk-in freezer.

"It's frakking cold up here."

"You think?" Her sarcasm had lost a bit of its usual edge.

"There's no reason for us to sit here. Set the alarm and come on. We'll hole up in the _Phantom_. The heat still works there."

It sort of worked, anyway. The shuttle's systems weren't designed to function while attached to the _Ghost_, and they seemed reluctant to run at full power. Worse, the shuttle's single air vent was positioned right in the back by the doorway that connected to the main ship, and so the paltry heated air dissipated as quickly as it was released. They huddled under the vent anyway, staring up at it as if urging it on.

"Whoever designed this ship didn't have much imagination for what could go wrong, did they?" Kanan quipped.

"They probably figured that if it got that bad, we'd use the _Phantom_ as an escape pod."

"That might still happen."

"Hopefully we can get within a parsec of an inhabited system first. Otherwise it'll be a very long ride."

Kanan sighed. "Right."

"It's well below the freezing point already," Hera said, looking up at him with genuine concern. "If it gets much colder, we're going to have to pull out of hyperspace. I don't want to abandon ship, but we might have to. We could stock up as much food as we can in the _Phantom_ and put out a distress call."

"Or we could stick it out for another hour."

Hera shook her head. "Unless we find another way to warm up, we're not going to be alive in an hour."

Kanan exhaled, slowly. She was right. They needed another plan.

"This would be a nice time for a camp fire, wouldn't it?" Hera's tone was light, but there was real tension underneath it. She raised her gloved hands to her cheeks and exhaled against them to warm her face.

"It would," Kanan replied. A fire on a ship like this was obviously out of the question, but perhaps he could rig up another heat source — _ah_. Of course. He headed down the corridor to his small room. "One camp fire, coming right up."

"I was joking!" Hera called after him. "You're not allowed to set fires on my ship!"

He smiled tightly and didn't reply. Inside his room, he pressed a button below his bunk, and a drawer slid smoothly open. He reached in and pulled out the single object he'd kept with him for the last fifteen years of his life: his lightsaber. He hefted the hilt in his hands for a long moment. He hadn't activated it in years. Hell, he hadn't shown it to anyone else in more than a decade. He'd never even shown it to Hera in the year he'd known her, but they were desperate. It might as well serve some purpose, after all this time. He clipped it to his utility belt.

A few minutes later he set the remains of the _Ghost_'s heat unit on a piece of plasteel in the middle of the floor of the main cargo hold. Hera stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself, her breath visible puffs of vapor in the cold air.

"What's that?"

"Your camp fire," Kanan said, with a smile he hoped hid his nervousness. This was probably a terrible idea. It might not even work.

He unclipped the lightsaber from his belt and ignited it. The blue blade's hum was deeply satisfying, comforting in a way he'd forgotten. The slight vibration of the hilt was barely perceptible through the insulation of the gloves, but he allowed himself a moment to feel it again, transported back to the day years ago when he'd built it and first switched it on. The thrill of seeing it come to life beneath his hands, of knowing he'd passed that particular test, had been one of the best moments of his life.

But that was a different life than the one he lived now. He carefully avoided looking at Hera as he adjusted the length of the blade down to just a few decimeters. He crouched in front of the twisted remains of the heat unit and plunged the shortened tip of the lightsaber into the center. The metal glowed orange in a slowly-expanding circle around the blue plasma blade, shifting around as it began to liquefy. He worked the metal carefully for nearly a minute before switching off the blade. Heat rose pleasantly from the half-melted mass.

"Sort of a campfire, anyway." He turned to look at Hera.

She stared back at him with an expression of awe. "You have a lightsaber."

"Yeah." He looked down again. "Come sit. This is actually working."

She knelt beside him and held her gloved hands out. She smiled. "Just need some meat to roast and we'll be set." Silence stretched between them for a long moment. She inhaled, exhaled again, and finally spoke. "Why didn't you show it to me before?"

Kanan's lips twisted. "You're the first person I've shown in a decade."

"That's not what I asked." There was only kindness in her tone, but it still set him a bit on edge.

"What good would it have done? It's not like I can use it anywhere. It's a relic from the past."

"Then why did you keep it?"

_This weapon is your life, Padawan. Keep it safe, and it will return the favor._

He shrugged. "I suppose I could have sold it." Lightsabers were worth a rather large sum on the illegal weapons market. He'd seen them for sale on multiple worlds, and each time had felt a stab of pain at the thought of what had happened to their owners, to the hands and minds that had so carefully crafted each one. He turned to look at her again.

"I'm glad you didn't," she said. Her eyes were dark and wide, and her smile was far warmer than the air around them. She put one gloved hand on his arm and squeezed, then looked back at the rapidly cooling heat unit. "Fire's going out."

"I got it." He switched on the lightsaber again and reheated the metal. "It's going to start cooling off faster. This may not help much longer."

They warmed themselves for a few minutes, but the color began to turn from orange to gray more quickly than it had done before. He heated the unit again, and again, but it eventually became clear that it was a futile effort. The cold air was sharp against his skin, and his nose and eyes were beginning to ache. Their breath seemed to hang between them in the frigid air — soon breathing would become genuinely painful. For the first time, Kanan felt a trickle of fear that they might not survive this.

No, that was not a possibility. They had less than an hour to go, after which they would land near the equator of a planet with a lovely temperate climate. They'd be sweating in tropical heat in no time, laughing about how cold they'd just been. Besides, he'd been trained for this type of circumstance. He could slow his heartbeat and bodily functions, bring himself into a state of near-hibernation.

Hera made a small sound next to him, something almost like a whimper, and he was momentarily flooded with panic. He could probably survive no matter how harsh the cold, but she wouldn't be able to follow. He closed his eyes and forced himself to clear his mind. They needed another plan.

He got up without a word and headed back to the storage room. He rifled through the supplies until he found a thin thermal blanket. It was the only one they had, but it would have to do.

"Hera?" he called, but there was no response. He walked back to the cargo hold to see her huddled miserably on the floor, eyes glazed over. "Hey, come on. Stay with me." He tugged at her elbow and she climbed to her feet, breathing shallowly. Her face was pale green now, something he'd never seen before. He swallowed down a wave of anxiety and tucked an arm around her waist.

He walked her to his room and sat her on the bunk, then maneuvered behind her on the small bed. He pulled her back against his chest, then tucked the thermal blanket over them both, heads and all. He rubbed at her arms, though he wasn't sure it was doing much good through the thick coat she wore. Hell, he wasn't sure if this would help at all, but surely they'd be warmer huddled together, wouldn't they? Re-breathed air would be slightly warmer, and that should help their lungs.

"Welcome to my bed," he said, trying to cover his worry with a bit of cheek. "Never thought this day would come."

She leaned back against him and moaned softly, her eyes closed. He wrapped his arms around her more tightly and listened to the rhythm of her breathing for nearly a minute. It was reassuringly steady, but he needed to get her attention somehow, to keep her awake and alert.

"We really underestimated those smugglers, didn't we?" he began. "Ships like that don't usually have that level of firepower. It's almost as if they were armed for a large-scale attack." He frowned: had they missed a chance to gain an ally? "But now we know Maltho's reach extends beyond Imperial interests. That captain didn't just turn hostile when we mentioned the name. He was almost scared." In fact, he'd never seen a hardened old one-eyed spacer look quite so terrified. It would have been funny if the man hadn't then unloaded his forward canons into their shields. "He was definitely unhappy that we'd connected him with Maltho. But why?"

"Sumpf," Hera mumbled.

"That's it, talk to me. What was that?"

Hera opened her eyes, but they remained unfocused. Still, it felt like success.

"It never gets this cold on Ryloth, does it? Your species isn't really built for the cold, I guess."

She blinked and her forehead wrinkled.

"When I was a youngling at the Jedi Temple, there was a Twi'lek boy called Barsoc. He used to say 'colder than a lylek's garf,' and I would laugh. Or at least, I did until I met a lylek and saw its garf." He winced at the memory. "The Jedi always taught us to respect and appreciate life in all its forms but I saw nothing remotely worth appreciating in _that_."

Hera turned her body and snuggled her face under the hood. He let himself press dry lips against her forehead and closed his eyes. This wasn't exactly the way he'd always imagined it would be when he took her to bed and held her in his arms, but he'd take it.

"That was a long time ago," he said, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "A lifetime ago, when I thought I was going to be a Jedi and spend my life fighting for truth and peace and all that kraf. And then it all just…" He trailed off as a strange roil of emotion clawed its way up his throat.

"Just what?" she said, so quietly he'd almost missed it.

He smiled, immensely relieved. "You're awake."

"Warmer now."

"Good." He pressed his cheek against her forehead. Her skin was still incredibly cold, but the fact that she was alert was a good sign. "I guess its a good thing neither of us ate gaff root today."

She huffed something almost like a laugh. "Keep talking."

"What do you want to hear?"

"You. Jedi."

"Right." He pressed his lips together for a moment. Where to begin? She'd never asked before, and he hadn't volunteered. He'd always figured that the less she knew about that part of his life, the better. He didn't want to make her a target unnecessarily. "I was brought to the Temple when I was around two years old. I don't remember my mother, but I know that she was very poor, and struggling to raise four kids on her own. I'm sure it was hard to give me up, but she probably knew I'd have a better life with the Jedi than I would if I'd stayed."

"Does she know?"

"That I'm alive?" Kanan shrugged. "It's best if she doesn't. Most people believe Empire's propaganda about the Jedi. I wouldn't know where to find her anyway."

"Not everyone believes it."

"But enough do. I've seen the sort of stuff they say, that the Jedi stole children from their families and abused and brainwashed them, but it wasn't like that. It was… magical. We were treasured, given all the resources we needed to grow and learn. We knew we were special, that we were meant to make a difference in the universe."

"And you will," Hera said softly.

He looked down to her upturned face. Her eyes were warm and wide, and much of her color had returned. Her expression was so open, so hopeful, and his heart clenched in his chest.

He should kiss her. He should kiss her now, before he lost his nerve.

A trilling sound rang through the air, slightly muffled under the blanket.

Hera's eyes lit up. "The alarm! We're coming out of hyperspace." She tugged the blanket off and they both winced at the rush of frozen air. She stood up and headed for the door, moving stiffly.

Kanan closed his eyes for a moment and took a steadying breath. His head was spinning a bit, and not just from the cold. Being that close to her, holding her — he didn't know if he'd have the chance again.

The ship lurched out of hyperspace just as he reached the cockpit. Chokai Four hung in space before them, beckoning them with its green warmth. Hera flew them into the long line of merchant ships awaiting landing clearance.

"Chokai Four Planetary Authority, this is Alpha-Alpha—" She paused to double-check the transponder reading she'd had the ship randomly generate. "—Four-nine-two-Delta-Five, requesting emergency landing clearance for Batakki Spaceport. Our ship's atmospheric controls are malfunctioning."

There was nearly a minute of silence, then a burst of static followed by, "_Emergency clearance granted. Proceed to the front of the landing queue and await further instructions._"

"Copy that," Hera replied. She switched off the comm and said, "Thank the Force." She steered the ship out of the queue and toward the front of the long line of spacecraft.

It was incredibly cold in the cockpit, but it wouldn't be much longer. Even now, the heat from the system's star was beginning to warm them through the transparisteel viewscreen. They would soon be planetside, and they'd find a replacement heat unit, maybe stock up on supplies. And, if he could talk her into it, perhaps they could spend a day warming up on one of those nice Batakki beaches he'd heard about and make a plan for what to do next with the new information they had.

"We're going to be fine," Hera said, flashing him a confident smile.

"Yeah," he replied, and swallowed down the persistent longing in his chest

Mostly fine, anyway.


End file.
